We climbed the slopes at an easy pace, checking around outcroppings and ducking under overhangs to read a few titles here and there, or leaf through some front matter. Bare globes cast yellowed light almost uniformly, but the occasional shadowed alcove or the back of a low shelf might hide some rare treasure. It would have been impossible to check them all but folly to ignore them completely, so we cast about us as we went, spending a few minutes crouched in a crevice tracing spines with our fingertips, or perched on a footstool with a small stack of interesting finds. The dark vaults overhead were beyond the reach of the light and admitted no evidence of time passing, but pass it did and eventually we began to grow weary. In an unspoken agreement, we started looking for a place to stop and rest. Soon enough we came to a shallow cave, set in one wall with a wide, low bench, softly cushioned, and on the shelves opposite a rich seam of magical realism. We shucked our packs, fished out some blankets and a bottle of wine, and began to set up camp.